Old Dreams
by ChibiMora
Summary: Vignettes from an assassin's past. Warnings for violence and possible spoilers. (Chapter 7 and 8 up! Seven is revised as of 4-12-02))
1. Nightmare

Near morning, a nearly forgotten dream…

A skinny tall boy, about thirteen or fourteen, sits on a rusty fire escape, his legs swinging restlessly from the edge.  A cigarette dangles from his lip and a pack and matches rest next to him.  His messy hair falls into his eyes and he shuts as the voices from inside the apartment behind him drift out the open window.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't start an investigation for another 24 hours," an official sounding male voice states.

"Besides, he's probably just hiding somewhere," another voice chimes in.

"He's never anywhere but here!  He comes home straight from school.  He's a good kid damn it.  He's never not come home at night." a nearly hysterical woman's voice argues.

"Listen lady," the second man says sternly, "we're doing all we can do.  Policy is policy.  We'll be back in the morning."

The boy jumps as dishes are rattled angrily in the sink.  His mother doesn't answer the men.  The boy hears the front door slam and watches the men walk to the car parked below him.  They don't see him.

"That dumb bitch probably got drunk and forgot him at the mall or something.  He'll come crawling back," the taller man grunts.

The boy takes a long drag, scowling down at them as they climb into their black car.  He's suddenly distracted by being hauled to his feet by a strong grip on his ear.

"Kaasan—"

He reels from a hard slap, immediately tasting blood.

"Yohji, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my god damn cigarettes?"

The woman's voice is shaking.

"Kaasan…"

"Why didn't you walk him home from school?  This is your fault!"

"Kaasan…" The boy frowns, a little blood running from his lip.

The woman opens her mouth as if to yell again, but collapses against the boy instead. They end up in an awkward pile on the fire escape.  The boy hopes that the fucking cops are gone.  The woman sobs and he pets her like she's a child.

"It's ok, Kaasan…it'll be ok."

"Yohji…"

Three days later the boy is on the fire escape.  His cheekbone is bruised.  He's smoking.

"Sota…where are you," the boy thinks. "I'm waiting for you.  I told you I'd take care of you.  You don't have to run away.  I'm waiting for you Sota.  Don't leave me, ok?"

The boy looks down, his heart leaping, as the black car pulls up again.

"Sota," he whispers.  He pictures his eight year old brother bounding out of the car, exclaiming, "I'm hooooooome, Yoh-nii!"

He blinks as the two cops from before get out of the car and pause next to it, staring at his front door below.  

"This isn't going to be fun."

"Whatever, that slut's probably got five illegitimate replacements running around this neighborhood.  She's got an older brat too." 

The boy puts out his cigarette.  His hand is shaking.

"Don't be cruel…they didn't even find all of the fucking kid.  Took all day just to identify the pieces."

The boy feels his chest tighten.  His green eyes widen.

"Well at least he got us a lead on the serial killer.  Too bad we had to slum for it," the man laughs harshly as the other shakes his head.

The boy stands and trips, falling back against the upstairs door to his apartment, he hears a curse from one of the men below as they spot him.  He can't breathe.  He opens the door as if in a daze.  The woman looks up at him blankly from the couch, a bottle in her hand. He's falling and falling and then everything is black.

"Yohji-nii?"

Sota…

Yohji stares and blinks at Omi.

"Oh…goodmorning."


	2. Routine

It's twilight.  The boy is fifteen.  He sits on his fire escape smoking.  A dirty apron hangs from his waist and his gray tee shirt is stained with sweat.  He sighs, trying to block out the overly loud TV from inside the apartment behind him.  He nearly jumps out of his skin as a young female voice laughs into his ear.

"You smoke too much," she says, tapping his nose.

"Damn it Asuka, I told you not to sneak up on me like that!"

The boy carefully picks his cigarette back up from the grating beside him.  The girl laughs.  She looks about his age, but much smaller.  Her black hair sticks out messily from a boy's cap.

"If your mom didn't have her TV up loud enough for the whole building to hear, I wouldn't be sneaking."

The boy frowns and rolls his eyes, "That doesn't even make sense."

The girl shrugs and sits next to him, leaning against his shoulder playfully.

"Yohji, when are you going to quit working at that stupid restaurant?  You could at least be a waiter you know."  She squints at him a little. "And you're starting to get kinda cute."

The boy pushes her away a little, laughing, "Too bad you still look like a boy.  Aren't fourteen-year-olds supposed to have boobs?"

The girl gasps and tackles him.  The fire escape groans a little and the boy's cigarette falls out his hand again, this time through the grating to the ground below.   

"Look what you did, you jerk," he says, rolling away from her.  His eyes widen a little as a male voice booms from inside.

"Yohji, get the hell in here now.  Your mother's ready for dinner."

"I didn't know your mom had a guest," the girl says softly, raising her eyebrows.

"I didn't either," he mutters, before nodding to the stairs leading toward the floor above. "Go home, brat."

The boy sits, lingering, as the girl stands, gazing at him seriously.  She runs a hand along his cheek gently.

"Genki da ne," she whispers before breaking into a goofy grin and bolting up to the apartment above. 


	3. Asuka (takes place before chapter 2)

Asuka's mom was always telling her to stay off the fire escape.  The family downstairs was weird.  Plus ever since the incident most of the parents in the neighborhood didn't want their kids outside at all.  Asuka sat on her bed and stared out the window, absentmindedly sucking on a strand of hair.  As soon as she heard her front door shut she knew her older sister had left for working.  Grinning, she cracked open her window and peered down to the floor below. 

The boy was on the fire escape as usual.  She knew his name was Yohji because someone or another downstairs was usually screaming it at him. For the past few months she'd become accustomed to sitting in her window and watching him.  He had to be her age, but he smoked.  She found that daring, and a little bit cool.  But she knew he probably only smoked for something to do.  The real addiction was just being outside, she figured.  He might as well just move out onto the fire escape for all the time he spent out there.  He always stared at nothing.  The view from their building was an almost identical building across a narrow alleyway.  They didn't exactly live in a scenic part of town either.

Asuka had found herself thinking about this boy all the time.  After the little boy downstairs…after the incident…Yohji was out of the fire escape even more often than he had been before.  She used to see him playing in the alley with the boy.  Yohji had been teaching the boy to throw.  He was amazingly accurate, setting up little targets on the edge of the dumpsters and knocking them in with rocks and pebbles.  Asuka had been jealous of the boys.  Her mom didn't like her playing with boys much, so she wasn't allowed to go down and play.   Asuka glanced around her room at the overabundance of dolls and pink things.  Her mom was dead set on keeping her from turning into a tomboy.  Asuka grinned…fat chance.  She was suddenly startled from her thoughts by a weary voice.  She blinked, looking down.  _Masaka…_

"Are you deaf?" the boy asked, leaning back against the wall and meeting her eye. 

Asuka just stared.

"I said, when are you going to stop spying on me, imp."

"I…"

Yohji sighed.  "Why don't you just come down here?  I'm straining my neck looking up."

Asuka found herself grinning and climbing out her window, barefoot.  She picked her way down to the next level and sat on the stairs a few feet away from the boy.  She'd never been this close to him before.  They went to different schools, and lately she was pretty sure he didn't go to school.  His eyes were green but dull.  One eye was surrounded by a pale bruise, mostly yellowed.

"I'm Asuka," she mentioned quietly.

The boy shrugged, took a drag, and resumed staring away somewhere.  Asuka tilted her head to the side.  After a while, he looked back at her, sighing with exasperation.

"Yohji.  My name is Yohji, which I'm sure you already know."

He turned away from here again.  For nearly half an hour they sat in silence.  Asuka watched him carefully.  He seemed tense with her there.  He was always shifting his weight a little and playing with his hair.  He had cute hair, it was a little curly, and he was always pushing it out of his eyes.  He was tall and lanky the way boys are before they start getting real muscles.  She smiled.

"I'm going to be a detective," he offered out of nowhere, startling her. "I'm going to be a good one too, keeping little kids like you safe and all that."

Asuka raised her eyebrows. "Little kids like me?  I bet we're the same age, jerk."

Yohji shrugged.  "You look like you're ten."

"Well I'm thirteen."  She perked up. "If you're going to be a detective, I'll be your partner."

Yohji rolled his eyes. "You're a girl."

"So?!"

The boy's mouth seemed to almost twitch into a smile.

"Well, you do look like a boy."

Asuka grinned at this. "Good!"

Yohji smiled at this, shaking his head a little, "Your sister gets home in five minutes.  You better go home before you get in trouble."

Asuka figured by the look of him he was an expert in being in trouble.  Then it struck her, how did he even know that?  Maybe the jerk would make a good detective.  Asuka stood and started to climb back upstairs.  She turned after a few steps.

"Can I come back tomorrow?"

Yohji shrugged a little half-heartedly, looking away.  Asuka grinned, and scampered back up the stairs, calling back, "See you then, Yohji."

He just nodded, biting back a smile.


	4. Turning Point

I suppose Yohji's always known where my bedroom is.  I mean it's only about 10 feet from where he spends about every second of his free time.  Actually, over the past couple of years he's been out more often, working his ass off, trying to save up some money for his dream.  I guess he wants to rid the world of evil or something.  I don't mind going along for the ride.  And it'll be a hell of a lot more exciting that being a secretary or something. And, he needs me. I glance down at the brunette in my lap.  He's finally asleep.  

****

Earlier tonight I was huddled in my bed, my back against the cold windowpane.  Frozen.  I couldn't move at all, unless you count jumping every time the voices on the fire escape rose to where I caught a few profanities, every time the fire escape groaned against the wall, every time I was sure I could hear the smack of skin against skin.  I don't know why I couldn't move.  I don't know why no one else is this neighborhood ever bothers to do something about it, call the cops, kill that guy, anything.  

After a while I didn't hear anything.  His mom's apartment has a door to the fire escape, and almost as soon as I heard it slam shut I cracked my window and started to climb out. 

He was slumped against the rail, his face crisscrossed in the shadows that the streetlights cast through the iron fire escape.  I couldn't tell if he was bleeding, it may have been the shadows.  I could hear his breathing, shuddery and hitched.  I caught his eye, glinting at me in the streetlight, and I found myself frozen again, half in my room and half out the window.  I've never seen anything as frightening in my life.  Despair and agony and absolutely pure hate, and then, somehow, shame.

"Don't," he growled.  "Just go to bed, Asuka."

My eyes widened and filled with tears even as I thought, I shouldn't be the one hurting, the one afraid.  But I couldn't go to him.  I slowly lowered myself back into my bed, shutting the window with shaking hands.  I knew he was still out there.  My heart clenched…what if he was really hurt?  But I couldn't go out there.  I couldn't.  The tears never fell, I just lay there in bed shaking.  I don't know how I ever fell asleep, but I must have, because the soft rapping on my window woke me up like a bucket of cold water.

I opened the window in a daze, barely registering the fact that he's never come up here before, never seen my room.  He'd never taken one step up the stairs to my apartment.  As soon as the window was open enough for him to fit through, he was climbing in and landing unceremoniously on top of me, on my bed.  I had about half a second to worry about my parents finding out before I felt him shaking against me.  He was…crying.  I'd known ever since his little brother was killed, and I'd never seen him cry.  He got angry a lot, really pissed, but he never cried.  Now…I guess he wasn't even crying as much as just gasping and shaking.  But I felt tears start to soak through my pajamas.

"Can't…go…home…" he managed, between breaths. 

Had he been out there all night?  No wonder his skin was so cold.

"help me…Asuka…"

I held him as tightly as I could, rocking him, tears running down my own face and falling in his hair.  I wondered if he was getting any air, the way he was gasping.  His fingers clutched at me and pinched me, but I barely noticed the pain.

At that moment I didn't care anymore about getting in trouble, or the dawn ever coming, or anything else but him.  All I wanted was for him to be safe, forever, with me.  I was filled with a fierce hatred, hating him for being so quiet about it, for going to work and washing dishes all night, talking about his crazy detective dreams, smiling at me like everything was fine.  I hated him for letting that man hit him.

****

After a while I start to drift asleep too, despite everything, feeling a brush of butterflies in my stomach at having a boy in my bed, sleeping in my lap.  Somehow, despite the dim light coming through my window, I don't see the blood on his hands.


	5. Houseguest

I'd fallen asleep on my papers when the knock came at the door.  I peeled my face off my desk blinked sleepily.  They must have the wrong place.

"No one's home," I called out, irritably.

"Doesn't sound like it to me, jerk," a female voice answered.

I froze mid step on my way to the door.  Asuka…  

And sure enough there she was, shrugging and grinning sheepishly.  I stood there gaping as she brushed past me and walked right into my little apartment like she owned it.

"Yohji…you need a woman around here.  Look at this mess," 

She frowned at the empty takeout boxes and papers strewn all over my living room or office…or kitchen…whatever you wanted to call it.  

"I hope you have a couch," she said, dropping her overfilled backpack next to her, "cause I get the bedroom."

"It's right over there," I mumbled.  It's right in front of her.  Is she blind or something?  Wait a minute…  
  


I stared.  She smirked at me.

"I heard you were looking for a roommate."

I continued to stare for a while.

"Actually…imp…I'm not looking for a roommate," I finally pointed out.

Then I pointed at the door, sternly.

"Out.  You shouldn't be here."

"I'm done listening to orders like that, Yohji.  Never again," she said, suddenly completely mirthless.

I decided to ignore the implications of that comment.

"I'm not kidding Asuka."

Her grin returned.

"I know."

She continued to tidy up my living room, while I stood in the still open doorway, glaring.

"I'm going to be your partner, remember? We're going to stick together," she said, kicking a few boxes into the corner before looking up and catching my eyes. "Besides, I missed you."  

I slowly shut the door behind me, unable to look at her as she continued cheerfully making one-sided conversation.

"Your hair is getting long.  You should tie it back, that'd be cute.  God this place is a mess, Yohji.  Oh guess what, someone moved into your old apartment.  They've got a bunch of little kids.  They keep scribbling all over your fire escape with sidewalk chalk."

My fire escape.

"Oh and I got your letter, jerk.  Did you really expect me to believe that you moved to Hokkaido with your mom? I am an investigator in training after all."

I could hear her pause.  She took a deep breath and continued bustling around.  I stood with my back to her, staring somewhere in the general direction of the door.

"Eight months hasn't changed the neighborhood much.  My sister moved out though, she eloped with some guy.  He wasn't half as good looking as you are.   This building is really creepy you know.  It looks like its about to fall down.  I swear somebody pissed in the hallway too.  It's nasty."

How can she keep talking about all this stupid shit? I know what she wants to say. My fists clenched.  How can she pretend it doesn't matter, what I've done?

"You're working at a coffee shop, right?  That must be better than washing dishes."

"Asuka…" I whispered.

"Ew…Yohji…how old is this food.  This is gross.  It's a good thing I'm here.  You've probably already got rats or something—"

"Asuka!"

The bustling sounds stopped behind me.  I could almost feel her eyes on my back.  Why did I have to sound so cruel?  

My breath caught as her arms slipped gently around my waist.  I felt her cheek press against my back.  I stared down at her slender, pale arms.  She sighed against me, and I could feel her chest rise and fall.  Somehow my knees gave out under me.  

"Asuka…I missed you too…" I choked.  Why wasn't I telling her to leave, that I didn't deserve someone like her?

I felt her hands rise up to my face and turn me gently to face her.  Her face was streaked with tears, but she was smiling.  She ran a hand up my cheek and tugged on my hair a little.

"It really is longer," she whispered.

I laughed softly and pulled her into a tight hug for a moment before she squirmed away, leaving me sitting on my floor, completely bewildered.  She waltzed right into my bedroom.  I leaned back against the door, groaning.

"Asuka," I nearly whined, drawing out the syllables, "don't go in there. That's my bedroom." This is embarrassing.

"*My* bedroom," she called through the open door.

I stared as dirty clothes from the floor were chucked out the door, piece by piece.  After a while she came back out and grabbed her backpack and walked back in, shutting the door behind her. 

"I'm unpacking," she called, "and then I'm cleaning your bathroom.  Haven't you heard of bleach?"

I ran a hand through my hair, wondering exactly what it was I'd missed about her.

"Oh, and tomorrow's my birthday.  We're going shopping."

 I shook my head and went over to the couch to start sorting through all the stuff that was on top of it.  After a second I found myself staring at my bedroom door.  

She was in there.  Asuka was in there.  Asuka was with me.

Asuka's my…roommate.

I flopped onto the couch, and from somewhere inside a laugh bubbled out of me, shaking my entire body, making my stomach and my face hurt.

I'd missed her so much.


	6. First Night

Yohji's room is dark.  His bed smells like smoke and cologne.  Cologne?  I didn't remember him ever wearing any when he lived at home.  Maybe he's had a few girlfriends.  I hope so.

I wonder what he does with himself with no balcony or fire escape.  All he has is one tiny window in the other room.  This apartment is tiny.  And dirty.

I lay in his bed, wrapped in his sheets.  It's quiet in here.  He needs a fan or something to drown out the weird noises that emanate from this building every once in a while, often enough to keep me awake.

For a moment, I miss my room, but I push the thought out of my head, conjuring images of ugly frilly dresses and baby dolls.  My parents weren't too happy about me leaving, but at least they aren't going to send the cops out looking for me or something.  

I roll over and put my pillow…Yohji's pillow…over my head.  What the hell is *that* noise?  I sit up suddenly.  Yohji?  I climb out of bed and tip toe to the door, opening it a crack.

He's curled up on the couch.  Apparently asleep.  And yes, the weird noises are coming from him. I creep across the room and watch him carefully.

His brow is furrowed, and his breath comes in quick gasps.  This can't be relaxing.  Then the sounds come again, little cries that escape as he holds his breath between gasps.  God…why is he holding his breath in a dream.  Then I hear a few words formed between the cries.

"Iie…onegai…iyaaa…"

That's it.  I kneel quickly and grab him firmly by the shoulder.

"Yohji! Yohji wake up."

I shake him slightly and call his name a couple more times and his eyes open with a strange deadly sort of calm.

"Oh…hello," he murmurs, his breathing already slowing considerably.  

But something seems wrong.  He looks up toward the ceiling and speaks as if we've been in the middle of a conversation.

"And you see, there was just too much blood.  Kitchen knives just aren't going to work. I think next time I'll have to do something cleaner."  His brow furrows in thought.  "Maybe strangulation or something like that.  Or maybe just a gun, since it would be nice not to have to be so close.  But then…guns make you bleed too.  Hm.  I'll have to figure something out."

His voice sounds as dead as his eyes look.  I'm terrified.

"Yohji?" My voice trembles.  Maybe I'm the one in a nightmare.  

My thoughts are broken by his face right in front of mine, and his eyes, wide and curious, gazing into my own.

"Asuka…I'd almost forgotten you were here…you look scared…what are you doing?  Is there something wrong with my room?"

"Yohji…" I stare at him. He hadn't really been awake.  He'd been sleep talking.  I shudder despite myself and he frowns.

"You must be cold," he says, tossing his blanket around my shoulders.

I shake my head, "No…I was just getting up for a drink of water, and you looked cute sleeping so I stopped to watch you…I must dozed off or something."

"Hm.  Whatever you say, crazy woman," he says sleepily.

He doesn't remember the dream, or he's hiding it well.  It bothers me that I can't tell which.  

"Asuka?"  

His voice sounds small.  

"Mm?"

"You can sleep here on the couch with me…if you're scared."

Maybe he does remember the dream after all.  Or part of it, anyway.  Cause he knows damn well I'm not afraid of the dark, or of nasty apartments.  I might be imagining it but his face seems to shine with relief when I sigh and climb onto the couch with him, letting him spoon me, one arm draping casually on my hip.

This will be the second time we've fallen asleep together.  I get the feeling this time, that I don't have to be afraid to wake up.  He falls asleep again quickly, his body jerking for a moment as it surrenders entirely to sleep.  With his arm around me, on that old couch, the noises in the old building don't bother me as much.  And we sleep soundly through the night.


	7. Night on the Town

It's the first weekend since I've come to stay with Yohji.  I've slowly started to get used to his weird schedule and complete lack of cleaning habits.  Tonight I'm sitting on the couch watching TV and watching with amazement as he seems to be getting dressed up to go out.  He keep pacing sort of nervously from his bathroom to his room to here and back, grabbing miscellaneous items.  I watch him fool with his shirt for about three minutes before I can't take it anymore.  I stand and stalk over to him.

"For god's sake, Yohji, you'd think you'd never put a nice shirt on."

Well, this shirt isn't exactly nice.  As I get closer my eyes widen slightly.  Is it *see-through? *

He meets my eye sheepishly and raises his arms, letting me straighten the fabric and fix the collar. I step back.  How did I not notice him those pants.  They're skintight, tighter than the pants I wear.  I can't really tell but they look like leather.

"Where the *hell* are you going?!"

He grins at me and looks away, pulling his hair up into a messy ponytail.

"Business…" he mumbles.

I stare at him.

"I need to get some inside information," he adds, a little more loudly but making even less sense if that's even possible.

I continue staring.  He continues to look away but for a moment I almost catch his eye.  It must be me…for a second he looks embarrassed or even ashamed.

"Well…you do look nice," I say, allowing myself a long appraisal.

I swear he actually blushes.

"Yohji…if you blush every time a girl tells you you look sexy you're not going to make it anywhere."

Now he reddens even more.  This is hopeless.  I stifle a quiet giggle and he pounces on me, feigning anger and lifting me over his shoulder.

"You.  Are.  In.  Trouble."

I squeal, beating on his back and trying to get down as he tickles me mercilessly.  We both end up collapsed on the couch, breathing heavily.  After staring at me for a while he leans in and kisses me lightly, cautiously.  When he pulls away he looks nervous.  It's adorable.  I wonder if he's this shy with his dates.

"Yohji…" I say softly, running a hand down his face. "Shouldn't you be heading out?  It's past midnight."

He gives me a strange look before glancing over at the clock.  

"It *is* getting late," he murmurs to himself. "Don't wait up for me, ok?"

I glance down pointedly and my pajamas.  "I'm going to bed any minute."

He nods and smiles with something like relief.

I watch him slip black boots on at the door.  He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a small smile.  And I can't help myself.  I cross the room and kiss him, more forcefully than he kissed me.  After a few moments his arms draw around me shyly and then more firmly, and one hand slides into my short hair, pulling at it gently.  

In the back of my mind I wonder what the hell I'm doing kissing my best friend.  But damn he looks good tonight.

We pull away and we both smile a little awkwardly.  I brush my hair out of my eyes, looking away, and I swear a catch a brief smirk on his lips.

"Well, good luck, whatever you're up to tonight."

He grins. "Thanks, crazy woman."

He gives me a brief wave and heads out the door, leaving behind the faint musky smell of his cologne.

What was *that* all about?

I settle myself back on the couch and turn on the TV.  At some point, I drift off to sleep on the couch, bathed in the blue glow of the television.

Sometime near dawn I am startled awake by the door opening slowly.  I sit up, focusing sleepily on the figure clothed in black that has just stumbled a few feet into the apartment and then lost his balance and stumbled almost all the way back into the hall.

I stand, fairly alarmed.

"Yohji??"

I know I've never seen him drunk before, but when he glances up and catches my eye, I'm filled with a strange dread that there's something more than inebriation in his eyes. Maybe it's just the dim light from the TV.  After all, his eyes are all I can really see.

"Asuka?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.  I barely reach him in time as his legs give out beneath him.  I pull away and slam the door shut, glaring down at him.  I've already forgotten my worry.  How dare he come home like this?

He sits on the floor and stares up at me, grinning.

I sigh angrily. "I'm going to sleep Yohji.  You can sleep on the floor."

He doesn't respond and I attempt to stalk over to my room, tripping awkwardly on the corner of the table.

"Fuck!"  I switch on the lamp next to me, prepared to rearrange the whole god damned room.

I see Yohji flinch from the light, shutting his eyes and turning away slightly.  I take a sharp breath.

"Yohji…"

His hair is down and tangled messily. His lip is split and bleeding a little.  I stare more closely.  He doesn't move, unaware of my gaze and still closing his eyes as if he's disoriented.

I take a step closer. The loose open collar of his shirt exposes his neck and some of his shoulder.  Even from here I can make out harsh bruises…fingerprints.

My anger washes away instantly, but I can't move.  I don't know what to do.  I don't know if I should go to him.

After a while his head turns toward me slowly, lethargically.  His grin is gone and his eyes open widely to me, begging me silently.  I make it to him in three steps, kneeling quickly beside him and drawing him into my arms.

I expect him to cry, to swear, or push me away.  Instead he lets me hold him, not making a sound.  But he shakes.  He shakes as if he's freezing to death.  

Yohji…what have you done to yourself…

I don't know how he made it up here, because in a matter of minutes he's passed out, becoming deadweight in my arms.  I lean gently to the floor and lay him down, paying careful attention to his breathing.  He doesn't smell like alcohol at all.  I'm almost certain he's been drugged.

God damn it Yohji…

I can't help myself, I carefully pull his shirt to the side, frowning as more angry bruises and scratch marks are revealed across his pale shoulders and chest.  My eyes narrow at an unmistakable bite mark on one shoulder.

With unsteady hands I fix his shirt.  And I sit cross-legged on the floor next to him for hours after that, making sure he's breathing evenly.  He never moves or makes a sound.  As noon approaches I can't keep myself up any longer and I sneak off into the bedroom, praying that he won't remember seeing me.

Around dinner time he knocks on the bedroom door.  I open my eyes groggily, for a moment forgetting everything from the night before.  After another knock, he cracks open the door and steps in.

"You get in a fight?" I ask jovially, knowing I can't pretend not to see his bruised mouth.

He grins back at me.  "Yeah, I'm an idiot.  I guess I had a little too much to drink and let my temper get away with me."

I wonder if he knows how lame that sounds.  Oh well.

"Nice sweater," I yawn, eyeing his thick turtleneck.

He shrugs.  "I'm making dinner…or breakfast…whatever.  You want any."

"Sure, just let me shower."

Our eyes meet for too long.  He knows.

"Asuka," he sighs, "it usually turns out much better than that, ok?"

"But—"

"Asuka," he warns, except there's a pitch to his voice that makes it sound more like a plea than a warning.

I nod, turning away and climbing out of bed for the shower.  That's in then.  End of discussion.  I know he doesn't want to talk.  And won't.

In the shower I sit down on the tile and cry for him, knowing that by now, he's too lost to cry for himself.  The hot water burns away my tears.


	8. On To Something

I pad barefoot out of Yohji's room, well my room I guess now, yawning. I walk over to the tiny kitchenette in the corner of the apartment and frown at Yohji as I pass.  He's asleep with his head on his desk again, for probably the tenth day in a row.

"I'm onto something," he keeps telling me, usually waving me off while he's at it, and squinting in concentration at one of the papers from the insane pile of documents and pictures on his desk.

Sixth months after moving in and I've kinda given up on cleaning here.  I get the food out of the way and all that but if I touch anything that resembles paper he narrows his eyes at me and threatens to find a new roommate.  That always makes me laugh.  More like a new maid…

I'm less of his partner and more the person who keeps him sane. And alive for that matter because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't eat unless I put food out in front of him.  He works all night, rarely bothering to walk three steps to the couch to sleep.

Right before I moved in he started investigating the disappearance of a wealthy family's teenage daughter.  Teenage…well…I guess our age.  The girl was apparently a little on the wild side and the family is trying to keep things under wraps.  Which I suppose is why they went out on a limb and hired a seventeen-year-old PI with no experience.  Although knowing Yohji, I'm sure he lied about his age.  And his experience.  He has a thing about that.

I dig through the mini-fridge and come up with a bagel that doesn't look as dubious as the half a cheese-and-pickle sandwich.  I walk over the couch and nibble on it, watching Yohji sleep.  My hand rises subconsciously to my throat as it often does when I think about him.  I run my finger along the satin choker he bought me for my birthday the day after I moved in.

He looks pale.  And thin.  Maybe some time this week I'll be able to get him out of the apartment before nightfall.  He needs some sun. I give up on the bagel and walk over to him, laying my hands lightly on his shoulder and bending to his ear.

"Yohji…" I call softly, startling him out of his sleep.  He leans back against me and looks up.  It reminds me of the way he used to look up at me from the below when I'd hang out my window.  He squints one eye at me sleepily for a second before his eyes open a little wider as if he's remembered something.

"I really think I'm on to something," he says, and I almost smack him until I notice a harsh kind of gleam in his eye.

"Are you serious this time," I ask, only half-teasing.

He pulls away from me, nodding, and stretches like a cat before turning to face me.

"What time is it?"

"Don't change the subject."

He turns and smirks at me. "All in good time."

I swear…he can be such an idiot sometimes.  I stand with my hands on my hips and glare at him.

"I thought we were partners.  Why do you keep me out of everything?"

His eyes darken.

"I don't want you getting hurt."

"Hurt?  Come on Yohji, its just a runaway case.  We haven't even gotten a *real* job yet in case you hadn't noticed."

He's staring at me.  I hate it when he does this.  His stupid green eyes always kill me, swimming with emotions that I can never quite define.  I look away.

"I'm going to get some breakfast," he says tiredly, "Do you want to come?" 

The moment is over, whatever the hell it was.  I look back at him and shrug.

"I had a bagel.  I'm going to stick around here."

He leans back in his chair, running two hands through his hair.

"I found the girl."

I blink at him.

"She got…recruited…into a prostitution ring.  Almost as soon as she'd left home.  These people…they don't let the girls leave. I don't even think she ran away.  I think she was kidnapped. And…"

I stare at him, listening.  He looks like he's going to explain more and then stops.

"This is serious Asuka."

I nod slowly in agreement.  Shit…

"What are you going to do?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know yet."

We stand there in silence for a while before he stands.  He's staring off again.  I can tell he's thinking.

"What is it?"

"Asuka…these people, this…club. I'm almost certain they're responsible for the deaths of those girls they found a couple of months ago.  And probably more.  It seems like they're taking girls off the street, and maybe even buying them."

He's practically babbling.  I can tell he's upset.  I feel my stomach grow cold.  How can this be true?

"Yohji…I thought you said it was prostitution…how can they be responsible for those mutilations?"

He flinches at that, so subtly that I nearly miss it.  He shakes his head angrily.

"It seems their clients can do whatever they want with the product," he says bitterly.

I swear under my breath.  How did he get himself into this?

"Yohji, you have to go to the police."

He looks away, shaking his head softly.

"Asuka, this club…the members are politicians, policemen…fuck…even teachers."

When did this morning become insane?  What is he trying to tell me?

"Yohji.  You can't do this alone."

"I have to get her back at least.  I know I can't take down Riot.  Not yet anyway.  But I can bring her back.  I can bring her home safe."

I stare at him.  He's looking at the floor, his eyes oddly unfocused.  He's serious about this.

"I'm going with you."

He looks up at me. 

"No."

Well then, that's settled.  It's not like he can get away with anything without me noticing.  I smile at him.

"And you say *I'm* crazy," I murmur, stepping up close to him and brushing my hand through his hair.

He looks down at me sadly, his eyes half lidded with something like fear.

"It'll be fine, Yohji.  In and out.  We'll get your girl."

He doesn't respond, and once again I'm lost in that gaze.  His eyes look so old and tired sometimes.

"Yohji…it'll be fine."

After a while he nods half-heartedly and I pull him into a hug.  My eyes widen at the desperate fierceness he hugs back with.  


End file.
